I Know
by NerdAngel
Summary: A little one shot that takes place season 11 after "Red Meat."


**A/n: It's February 17th again! Which means it's time for another story written for and dedicated to the phenomenal LilyBolt!**

 **This takes place in season 11 after "Red Meat."**

 **I don't own SPN or its characters. I'm just borrowing.**

I know

There's a lot you get to know about another person when you live with them. Having grown up with your sibling/s, chances are you learn to pick up on little things like mannerisms, characteristics what they fears, what they love, what they hate, and even the way they think. Of course not all brothers and/or sisters get along with one another and therefore not all of them know everything or care about what they like and don't like and what they think about or little gestures or words that they say that may actually be implying other things like their feelings or thoughts. Not all of them have had the opportunity to grow up with them either, which means they might not know that their sibling gags at the smell of peanut butter or has a deadly allergy to mold. Particularly the kind that grows on fruit. They might not know that they're terrified of something as simple as an eight legged arachnid or dark waters where a shark can be lurking. They might not know what kind of music they like or movies or if they care about either of them at all and prefer to spend their time doing other things like exercising or just enjoying the great outdoors. There's so much to learn about someone no matter what relation they are to you; friend, family, lover, enemy, acquaintance.

Sam Winchester not only grew up with his older brother, but he and Dean spent more time around each other than they did away from each other. Sure they had breaks here and there, days, weeks, even years. The time Sam had spent away at school in California was probably the longest, lasting a good four years at least. The death of his brother being the next. Or maybe it was his year running around soulless and working with their dead grandfather. Though it was starting to become harder and harder to keep up with all the times the brothers had been separated due to one of them dying, it was never forgotten that it did indeed happen. It's because of the fact that Sam had grown up and practically been attached to the hip to his sibling, not always voluntarily, that he knew a lot without even having to verbally ask. He knew every movement his older brother made, every little gesture whether it was a look or a physical movement. He could read every posture and nervous tick like it was a book he'd read a million times over. He noticed the tones and pitches of his voice making it easy to know what was meant even if it was something that was trying to be implied entirely differently.

It was because Sam had studied Dean starting at an early age, he was able to ace the "Dean test" that his brother would so often unintentionally through him. The things the younger man didn't know about his sibling, were the things that drove him crazy. And as they sat in the Impala coming back from yet another hunt that had almost cost one of them their lives, he knew something had happened while he was out of commission, but didn't know exactly what it was that had happened.

The entire car ride back from Idaho has been spent mainly in silence between the two hunters with the exception of the usual squeaks from Baby, the radio of which he had turned on and up and louder than really necessary, an occasional clearing of the throat or hissing when Sam moves his body in a way that puts pressure on his gunshot wound, and sounds of tires on the road. Dean's eyes remain straight ahead of him, sliding glances at his little brother every now and again and especially after a sound of discomfort is heard. If anyone was riding along with the Winchesters, that's what they would hear and see. But what is seen and heard from the passenger seat of the Impala, is far more. Dean's silence is deafing to Sam. The only time his brother is really quiet while in a car ride home after a particularly close call on a hunt, is when he's hiding something or playing something in his mind. Like whatever had happened had scared him so bad, that he couldn't help but think about what he could have done differently that would have led to a better outcome. The volume of the radio is a huge indicator of what Sam is dealing with too. Low means he doesn't want absolute silence, but he's up to having a conversation. Louder means he's trying to keep things seeming normal, but the volume is up high enough that Sam has to raise his voice a little to be heard. Louder still but drumming fingertips on the steering wheel while bobbing his head and puckering his lips while humming or bursting out into poorly tuned song means he's in a good mood and is more interested in soaking it in and rocking out than talking. Louder and staring out the window with no puckered lips humming or singing, means he wants to avoid any kind of communication what-so-ever and is the kind of car ride Sam hates the most. Which was exactly what had happened after the werewolf case they had worked where Sam had been only inches from death yet again. The clearing of the throat is mainly on Sam's part and a few of those times not just to help get rid of an unwanted mucus build up, but trying to get his brother's attention which he knows is heard and simply ignored as if the music is too loud. The hissing of pain that escapes through his teeth of course grabs the older man's attention, but he tries his hardest to not make it obvious to the younger man and knows better than to ask if he's alright because the only thing that comes from that, is a gateway opening for his sibling to get him where he wants him in the sense of talking and he wants to avoid that like the plague. It's because of all this and the white knuckle grip and occasional breaths Sam sees his brother take which are clearly breaths of relief, that the younger of the two knows the older is hiding something. Not to mention the last thing he did say was answer Sam's question as to what Dean did when he saw how close of a call to death Sam had really been. It hadn't been a vain question that begged for attention that showed he'd been missed or that he'd worried about him. It didn't need to be when it came to him and his brother. The question was one of concern on his own part. Dean would do anything for Sam and Sam knows it. His sibling has proven it on more than one occasion including selling his soul, knocking him out to take on a fight alone that left him dead and then a demon, and even killed not only a friend to save him, but took out Death himself to save him. When Sam had asked Dean what he did, the older man had turned to his sibling and replied without a moment's hesitation, "thought about re-decorating your room, you know? Put in a Jacuzzi and a disco ball. Really class up the joint." A joke when he'd been that close to death implying he'd planned on making the place into a bachelor pad had been a huge red flag that wasn't fooling anyone. Or at least he wasn't falling for it. But he played along laughed a bit and asked for a real answer which had been "I knew you weren't dead. I knew." Sam knew too. He knew that Dean wasn't telling the full story and he knew, from knowing his brother, that there was more that went on that night than he was sharing which only meant it was something that Sam wouldn't approve of.

The drive home from Idaho is a long one and Sam knows that sooner or later they are going to have to stop for some rest and some food. What he also knows is that with Dean sitting focused ahead of him with a tight grip on the wheel and the music loud, it was going to be a quick drive through meal where he would only have to turn down the volume to place the order and no words were needed with the exception of placing an order and "here" as he passed him the bag of food and cranked the knob of the radio up again.

Sam reaches over to lower the volume but in doing so he moves too quickly and because he does this with the arm that's on his injured side,he instead recoils and lets out a pained sound. The motion of him placing a hand on his wound and verbally displaying discomfort, causes Dean to turn down the music himself and he shoots Sam a disapproving look.

"Sorry," Sam apologizes.

"Don't apologize to me, it's not my injury." After a moment of silence he adds "what?"

"I just was thinking, maybe food would be good? I mean it's getting late and we aren't going to be making it back tonight."

"We could," Dean insists eyes back on the road again telling Sam he was more than willing to drive all night if it meant getting back to the safety of the Bunker, without actually saying it.

"Ok yeah, I know we could. But I kinda was thinking it would be good to stop. Take a break a bit, maybe grab a bite that wasn't a fast food meal we eat in the car." When Dean doesn't answer one way or another he speaks again, but this time his voice is softer almost pleading. "I could use a break from the road. You know, stretch my legs a bit, not have to worry about the bumps and pot holes juggling me around?"

Dean doesn't answer, he doesn't have to because Sam knows the next bar that they cross that sells food, is going to be their new destination. He learned at an early age that his voice and eyes were all that was needed against his big brother. If Sammy was in pain or upset, all he had to do was ask for whatever he thought would make it better and if being in the car bouncing around was hard on him and he needed a break, they'd break.

Dean removes the Impala from the freeway and starts to cruise the surface streets until he comes to a hole-in-the-wall bar, nice and exclusive now that the few shops around it are closed for the night. He pulls into an unoccupied spot and comes to a stop. Dean is the first one out of the car and as Sam works on getting himself out, he can sense his brother's hawk eyes watching him and gauging if he thinks his sibling needs any kind of assistance. Sam manages without help and gives Dean a curt nod letting him know he's good before they head in.

The bar is standard. There's a counter with six red backless synthetic leather barstools in front of it and a wide range of brands and types of alcohol behind it. There's a few tables for those who want to eat in their own space, and two doors not too far with symbols that differentiate genders. The floors are walnut with plenty of stains and scuffs to show it's been around awhile. Off to the right up three small steps there's a karaoke machine which is being occupied by a young inebriated blonde singing "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" while a small crowd of people sit at tables and sing along or clap. The brothers make their way to the bar where a man with a long blond ponytail and a welcoming grin is standing.

"What can I get you gentlemen tonight?" He asks.

"You got any food in this joint?" Dean questions.

"A bit, not much though," he answers handing the older brother a small laminated menu.

"He doesn't eat much anyways, the trick is finding something he will eat."Dean passes Sam the menu which he takes and examines.

"I'll just have an order of fries thanks," the younger man says handing it back. Dean quirks an eyebrow at him before turning back to the bartender.

"I'll have the best whiskey you've got."

"And a water and Wild Turkey for me please."

"You got it." The man turns away to get the drinks ready. Dean frowns.

"Really? Fries. That's all you're eating? Back in the car you made it sound like you were hungry."

"I am, a little. I don't wanna go too crazy, you know?"

"Whatever floats your boat," he shrugs.

The bartender returns with the brothers' drinks. "Fries should be out shortly," he reports to Sam. He thanks him though he doubts the ponytailed man heard him as he make his way towards the employee only door in the back, causing both brothers to question how safe the food in the place is.

"You didn't get anything to eat." It isn't a question but an observation.

"Keen eye there Sherlock," Dean retorts keeping his attention ahead of him like he had the road. "You should've gone to school to be a detective instead of a lawyer."

Sam ignores the comment. His brother loves food almost as much as he loves women, so when food is turned down, it's another red flag that only Sam knows. It's not a question, but an observation that something is wrong. "You can have some of my fries if you want," he offers.

"Aw well, I was gonna help myself but now that you've told me I can, I don't want any," Dean teases. Sam laughs a little like he had back in the car when he had joked about taking over his room. His smile fades and he bites his lip nervously as he looks down at his glass of bourbon as though it were a magic 8 ball that holds an answer to an unasked question. Sam knows that Dean's anticipating him trying to find a way to have a more in-depth talk. He also knows that Dean's already come up with several ways to get out of it. He can excuse himself and hide out for awhile. He can answer him even though he doesn't want to. Or, and most likely, he'll be defensive or try to joke and therefore make the ride home even worse and the loud music even louder.

Instead the younger brother sighs and turns his attention to the blonde who finishes up her song, giggles, and blows kisses before half walking half stumbling off the makeshift stage as a dark haired man steps up in her place. Sam watches him for a bit, coming to the conclusion that the guy was a better singer than the girl had been but not by much. He's interrupted by the sound of the bartender placing a basket of fries on the counter space in front of him. He thanks him again and takes one up in his hand, blows on it, and eats it. They're not bad, a bit too salty and unmistakably microwaved not cooked, but not the worse he's eaten. His eyes shift over to his brother who has his eyes closed and his whiskey glass tilted bottoms up. He knows the last day and few hours haven't been easy on him, and he knows that judging by the look in his eyes, the drive over, the lack of food but still the order of drink, that Dean didn't know what he claimed he did.

Sam had been suffocated. He knows it and so does Dean. But what the younger man also knows, is what had happened to his body while he'd been unconscious. Corbin had done a number on him that left even the attempted killer to believe he had died. Sam's pulse would have been so faint that his it would have been near non-existent. He's breathing would have appeared to cease altogether, his body not moving, not even his chest would have been raising and falling. His skin had already been piqued from the blood loss and it had been cold so his temperature would have been decreased as well. Sam would have appeared dead. Though of course Sam has never seen his brother all the times that he has died, he has seen what happens when those that Dean is close to dies. It's true that he goes through a grieving period for a long period of time, but he eventually accepts it. The younger man remembers what it was like when they lost their father and years later their surrogate father and in the same year, his best friend. His brother had been broken and it had taken a lot of time for him to put himself back together again, or at least as much as possible. There are still missing pieces to making Dean full and Sam doubts that he ever will be after everyone that he has lost. But even through the pain and the drinking and the spiraling that those deaths caused, he never tried to find a way to bring them back. Sam was different. Dean had brought him back multiple times now and even though Sam at times wishes he'd left him dead, he still understands. After all, Dean wasn't the only one who'd lost a brother. Sam remembers a time when he had to stand by and watch his brother die over and over again. Tuesday was still his least favorite day of the week.

Dean hadn't known that Sam wasn't dead and a dead Sam was far from acceptable in Dean's eyes which could only mean that his brother had made an attempt to save him once again. Connecting the dots almost brings Sam to tears and the not knowing exactly how his reckless brother had tried to "bring him back" is what he desperately wants to know. But Dean doesn't like having to admit that he had thrown himself into a deadly position, because he knows that it only leads to a scolding from his younger brother. A scolding that ultimately is pointless on Sam's end, because no matter what he says to him, he knows Dean will never listen and the only time he will be allowed to be dead is when Dean isn't around to prevent it from happening. Even if the reason he's not around to stop it is because he died doing just that.

Sam fights back tears that threaten to blur his vision and he clears his throat though he'd rather be able to clear his mind of the awful ideas he has running through his head of what had happened while he had been out of commission. "I'll be right back." Dean doesn't say anything as he takes another drink from his glass and waves down the bartender for another. He enjoys the few moments of solitude where he doesn't have hazel eyes constantly watching and waiting for a moment where he can try to pry him open about what had happened back in Idaho. Although Sam is a decent liar, he's not hard to read. Dean knows Sam isn't buying what he says and the worry is as plain as day on his face. He also knows that eventually, his little brother is going to corner him and demand he tell him what really happened. It's only a matter of time.

Sam takes his seat again. Dean looks over at his sibling's fries which are barely touched. "You gonna eat those or just stare at them?" He asks.

"I'm working on it," Sam answers taking up a few fries this time and scooting the basket closer to his brother. "You want some?"

"No," Dean says quicker than necessary and takes another drink of liquor. He has for the most part been ignoring most of the sounds around him since they entered, but the calling of his name followed by his brother's brings him to look towards it. It's coming from the area where the karaoke machine is. Dean looks to his sibling to see if he had heard it too. Sam smiles and jerks his head towards the stage with the ghost of a smile on his lips as he gets to his feet. Confused, the older man gets to his and follows.

"What the hell is going on?" He whispers when he catches up.

"It's been a day, for both of us. I figured you could use a bit of a break," he shrugs.

"Weren't we doing that back there? Besides, since when do you do karaoke? I can barely get you to sing with me in the car?"

"You're right," Sam agrees as they near the stage. "But you know I've never really given it a shot, so I figured why not? Life's too short."

The brothers reach the stage where the crowd is clapping and whistling. Dean looks around a bit unsure then looks back at his brother who looks equal parts amused and terrified. "I don't even know what we're singing," he whispers at Sam again.

"Don't worry, you'll know it when you hear it."

The music starts up and Dean can't help but grin a bit and look over at Sam once more who's smiling back. He gives a nod, than turns his attention to the crowd as he begins to sing. He hears his brother next to him and in his voice he hears comfort. The lyrics are moving along the screen off to the side, but neither Winchester pays any attention to it. They don't need to. It doesn't take long for Sam's shoulders to sag a bit more comfortably and Dean's already blocked out the audience. Even as they stand in front of a group of people singing "Night Moves", the brothers feel as though they're cruising down the highway just the two of them just as it's always been and they know it's how it always will be.

 **A/n: LilyBolt aka my Watson: Three years ago I decided to give fan fiction reading a try. Three years ago, I came across an amazingly well written Supernatural story known as Rememberance written by a phenomenal fanfic writer by the pen name LilyBolt. Three years ago, I left a review (a pretty piss poor one when I go back and look at it btw), and that one little decision to let this writer know they were doing a great job, led to a response. That response led to a conversation between the two of us and from that conversation, came another and another and another and so on and so on. Who would have thought that one tiny couple sentenced review, would lead me to meeting my best friend? I'm grateful everyday that I decided to look into this site and that I happened to find this fantastic little story and comment about it. Thank you LilyBolt for being the best friend anyone could ever ask/hope for!**

 **Thank you to anyone who reads, reviews, favorites this story.**


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